


Weathering the Storm

by AR_Redux



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24149434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AR_Redux/pseuds/AR_Redux
Summary: Kristoff helps Anna learn that thunderstorms aren't so bad, after all.
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	Weathering the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> It's been done before, I know, but it's been very rainy lately. I don't know where I first saw the idea for either a bearded or braiding Kristoff, but it's now lodged in my brain. If you knew my husband, you'd understand. 
> 
> In an effort to show love is more important than tradition, the midwife evolved into a whole character with a story. I'm not sorry for her. To be honest, I think I'd like to grab a beer with her. 
> 
> Fluff, smut, childbirth (but not real graphic because hey, there's a reason I don't have my own and am still traumatized by perusing "What to Expect" at a friend's). Enjoy!

The first time he had realized the extent of Anna’s fear of thunderstorms, it was spring.

Kristoff knew Anna wasn’t at all fond of thunderstorms. In the months since they had known each other, he had seen her wince at the thunder and lightning when it stormed outside the castle windows, on afternoons spent cooped up in the library. She insisted it was no big deal, but the tension in her shoulders and the narrowing of Elsa’s eyes told him otherwise.

It was one of the rare nights when he actually slept in the castle. Elsa had given him a room months ago, but self consciously, Kristoff avoided using it unless he had to. He explained it away by saying he would get busy taking care of Sven, that he slept just as well on a pile of hay, but this particular night, the whistling wind had promised foul weather, and he had convinced himself that he would actually sleep better in the massive bed with its soft covers.

He didn’t expect to wake in the middle of the night to ear piercing screams of terror and clashes of thunder and lightning. Half asleep, he tumbled from the bed, armed himself with a bookend, and made his way into the hall. 

That was when he had realized the screams were Anna’s. Casting aside any need in that moment to maintain propriety, Kristoff raced to her room and threw open the door.

Kristoff wasn’t sure what he expected. An intruder, a spider, an injured Anna. But he froze when he saw Anna thrashing in the bed. Tears were running down her reddened face, and her hair was a mess.

And now that he could clearly hear her voice, words and phrases were more easily distinguished.  _ No _ , and  _ You can’t leave, you won’t come back _ , and  _ Mama, Papa, stop! _

She was having a nightmare. He was across the room, reaching for her hand before he consciously decided to make the movement. He caught it just as it was about to hit him in the face. Wincing, he held it tightly in his, reaching with his free hand for her shoulder.

“Anna?” He shook her lightly.

“No!” Her face was tortured. “No, no, please!”

“Anna, wake up!” He made his voice louder as he heard the slamming of another door, farther down the hall, footsteps that were quick and light, almost as if they were running.

Anna’s eyes flew open just as Elsa appeared. Elsa didn’t appear as panicked as Kristoff felt, and he found himself wondering how long this had been going on.

“Kristoff?” Turquoise eyes focused on him, first terrified, then relieved. “What are you doing here?” Before she could answer, another loud clap of thunder shook the castle, and she dove under her covers. He heard a muffled, “Oh,” from under her blankets.

By now, Elsa had crossed the room to sit on Anna’s other side. “Hey.” Kristoff watched as Elsa peeled back the layers under which Anna was hidden. “You had another nightmare.” Anna’s face finally appeared, lines of tension clear even in the low light, but Elsa smiled, reaching down to attempt to tame Anna’s wild hair. “I think you scared poor Kristoff half to death.” Elsa smiled at him now, and he could see the gratitude in her ice blue gaze. She shrugged, almost as if to say,  _ Sorry I didn’t warn you. _ “You’re safe now, we’re right here.” Another clatter, this one not as loud, still made Anna wince.

Then Kristoff winced. “Geeze.”

Anna managed a sheepish smile as she relaxed the grasp of her fingers around his. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly, because it was. He smiled back. “Just surprised me. Shouldn’t have, but it did.”

Nothing else was said that evening, not even when Kristoff and Elsa crept from Anna’s room as she fell back to sleep after the thunder had abated, the sound of rain pattering more gently on the roof. Not even when Elsa swiped a tear from her eye, sniffling softly. Not really sure what else to do, Kristoff had given her shoulder a little squeeze before walking back to his room, her soft footsteps meandering in the opposite direction to her own chambers.

He didn’t need to ask why Anna had nightmares during thunderstorms.

Everyone, even antisocial hermits such as himself, knew what had happened to King Agnar and his wife, Queen Iduna. The kingdom had been in a state of mourning for months, even the trolls saddened by the news. Agnar had been a good king, well liked and respected, if a little reclusive. Iduna was good and kind, and together, they had ruled fairly. Then they had died tragically, swallowed by the raging sea.

So, of course, Anna hated thunderstorms.

\----------

Years later, the full extent of that tragedy rocked the foundation of both sisters.

Kristoff knew it was harder in some ways on Elsa. Anna had told him how her older sister had reacted to learning the truth of their parents' voyage—that they had been looking for answers about Elsa, and not leaving for some diplomatic trip. Anna had also described in a voice that was uncharastically hollow how far they were from where they were supposed to be, as far from the Southern Sea as was possible. 

How close they had been to reaching their destination before the sea overcame them.

How they had died fearfully in each other’s arms.

Over years spent sneaking into her room as soon as he heard a rumble, he had managed to help her overcome the worst. He wrapped her in his arms before she had a chance to tremble, woke her when holding her wasn’t quite enough and just before it became overpowering, kissed her softly to soothe her. Then she would settle, and he would head back to his own room. Usually.

Tonight was different.

It had been almost a year since Anna had experienced that particular nightmare. The autumn after her ascension to the throne was fair and beautiful, before shifting as perfectly and politely as possible into winter, almost as if nature itself were hailing the new sovereign. The weather had been mild enough that spring that there weren’t many storms, and those that came were during the day. On those days, the Queen of Arendelle could be found in the library, wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire, her Prince Consort sprawled out at her side and a book held between them. She read him her favorite tales from childhood, smiling slightly now and then when he would reach for one of her hands to press a kiss to her fingers.

Tonight, he slept harder than was usual for him. It had been a long, beautiful day, one spent celebrating the longest day of the year, and he had spent most of it distracted by his jovial, beautiful wife, not noticing an unusual darkening at the edges of the sunset.

He woke when a tiny hand flailed into his chest. He startled at first, sitting up, more confused than anything, until the thunder met his ears, closely followed by his wife’s voice.

“No, Mama, please…” Anna was twisting in the sheets desperately, as if she were trying to run. “No… Papa, don’t… I can’t…” Her face was screwed up in agony, and he grasped her shoulders.

“Anna, wake up!”

“Kristoff!” She was screaming now. “Kristoff,  _ no _ !”

“Anna, wake up, I’m right here!”

“Krist—” Her eyes flew open, wild and panicked as she sat up in bed, reaching frantically for him. “Kristoff, you can’t go! Please don’t go,  _ please _ —”

“Anna!” He held her face between her hands, hearing the breath leaving and entering her body in rapid, painful sounding gasps. “Anna, look at me!” But her eyes were still darting here and there, as if trying to discern where she was, and he did the only thing he could think of, the one thing he knew would work.

He kissed her, hard, pulling her flush against him.

When they finally broke apart, there were tears cutting tracks down her flushed cheeks. “Kristoff?”

“I’m right here.” He wrapped his arms around her as tight as he could to where she could still catch her breath. “I’m here, baby.”

“You were going up the mountain,” Anna sobbed, her fingers clutching his waist. “The ice was breaking, and you were following Mama and Papa, and I—” Her voice broke, no match for her tears.

“I’m right here, Anna.” Kristoff kissed her, trying to help her breathe as their lips connected over and over. “I’m here.” He took her hand, pressing it to his bare chest. “Feel that, Anna?” He kissed her again, longer this time, swallowing her cries. “Feel my heartbeat, honey. I’m here, I’m fine. It’s just the nightmare, baby.” Her cries were becoming whimpers. “That’s it, Anna.” He pressed his lips to the side of her head as he pulled her easily into his lap. “Hold on to me, sweetheart. You’re okay. We’re okay.” Another kiss, this one on her forehead. “I’m right here.” Her nose. Her breath was still shuddering, but she was having more luck controlling it now. “That’s my girl. My Anna.” 

“I love you,” she finally whispered, her voice still shaky. “I love you so,  _ so _ much, Kristoff.” Then another rumble of thunder, this one the loudest so far, shook the air around them. She cried out, her little fingers digging into his lower back. Then, “I  _ hate _ thunderstorms.” Her voice was venomous, and he blinked. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her say it out loud, at least not so directly. “It’s stupid, it’s so  _ stupid _ , I’m a grown woman, I’m  _ married _ , for crying out--”

Kissing her had worked before, and it worked just as easily now. Except now she was more wide awake. Now, she was in his lap, and she was desperate in a different way as she whined against him, turning so she could straddle his waist. She shuddered with a flash of lightning, then shook her head, blinking quickly.

“Distract me.”

The direction was so simple, he had to follow it. Not that he could ever deny her. Not that he'd ever want to. So he distracted her the best way he knew how. 

For what felt like the thousandth time, he wondered at being able to do this. He rolled her onto her back, grinning as he pulled the thin sheet over their heads. The weather was too warm for blankets  _ and _ sex, and to be honest, he hated it when he couldn’t see her. He knew she felt the same, and he wondered for a moment if perhaps making love to her during a thunderstorm would finally cure at least the fear of lightning. Already, the flashes illuminated her as he quickly worked her nightgown up and off. She was bare underneath, and his hands quickly found a soft breast and the curve of her hip. Muffed by the rain, he felt more than heard her soft sighs as he trailed his mouth down her body.

The Queen of Arendelle had requested distraction. He lived to serve her.

A long, low moan vibrated through her as his lips wrapped around a nipple, suckling gently as he flicked his tongue against the peak that was captive in his mouth. One of her slim legs hitched up to wrap around his back, the other loosely tossing over his opposite thigh. He stopped when he heard her irritated sigh clearly, even over the pattering against their windows. Glancing up, he saw her frustrated expression, little nose wrinkled with displeasure, a pout on her pink lips.

“Pants,” she said shortly, and he felt the foot against his back hook against the waistband of his sleep pants. Chuckling, he lifted his hips from the bed, reaching down to tug loose the drawstring. Her irritation was replaced by concentration as she worked them down past his knees, using only her little toes, until he could finally kick them off. She giggled when they got caught on his foot.

“It’s easier when I’m not already  _ in _ the bed.”

“Then take the sheet off.”

Kristoff blinked. “You sure?” He pressed his lips to her stomach briefly, gazing up at her with concerned eyes. “It’s still pretty bad out.” But his fingers on her breast never stopped moving, and he found himself wondering just how distracted Anna already was.

Anna was the one who kicked the sheet away after that. While the soft linen had allowed just enough light in, especially when the lightning lit the room, for him to discern her face, the ambient light of their room and eyes adjusted to the dark now allowed him to see that wild look in her eyes. It was a look he had learned early on in their marriage, and it made his stomach flip in the most amazing way every time.

A grin split Kristoff’s face. He had succeeded. She wasn’t thinking about the thunderstorm. She was thinking about using him to get herself off and force him to come tumbling after, and that was completely fine with him. It always ended well, after all.

Anna noticed. Her fingers raked through his hair, nails scratching softly against his skull. “What’s that smile, Bjorgman?”

He didn’t want to draw her attention back to the pounding against the windows when he was unsure how she was ignoring it at this point, so he instead shook his head, pressing his lips against her stomach again, this time, a little more slowly. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured. Anna’s bottom lip was quickly pulled between her teeth, and he felt the shift from moderate to a much more intense arousal. Desperately trying not to grind against the sheets, he kept his eyes on her face, on subtle dilations of her pupils, soft chest hitches, flutters of eyelashes. Every time he came closer to her stomach, something happened, shifted, in her expression. He repeated his request. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”

“I was pregnant,” she whispered. “In my nightmare, you know, and I—” She shrugged, smiling slightly. “It was the only good part. It started out that way, anyway.”

“Yeah?” He shifted his hands to span her sides, his wide palms allowing his thumbs to brush against her abdomen.

“I mean, we’ve tried,” Anna said, rolling her eyes, and he burst out laughing at this. “But Yelena says I have to be better about watching the calendar.” 

Kristoff blinked. “You talked to Yelena about it?”

“Well,” she said, toying with a lock of his hair while she blushed, “nothing was happening. And definitely not for lack of effort. And I know it can take a while, I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to aid the process, I guess.”

Now he was curious. He rested his arms against her flat stomach, the one he had been quietly hoping to himself would, sooner rather than later, have a discernible bump, the kind that came from the growth of a child. Propping his chin up, he grinned at the partly amused, partly annoyed look on her face. She clearly hadn’t planned on this line of conversation stopping them, but a part of him felt like it needed to, if only for a few minutes. “What else did she say?”

Anna looked a little sheepish now. “Well, you know how when I get extra busy I get extra tired and I fall asleep, and for some reason, you decide that’s not a good time for love making—”

“Because you snore, Anna.” He shook his head. “I draw the line at making love to you when you’re so passed out you’re  _ snoring.” _

Anna giggled at this. “Anyway, when I looked back at my calendar, since we’ve been married, the times I’ve been the busiest are when I’m most likely to, you know…” She trailed off, her blush darkening. “There are times it’s more likely to happen, you know, and more likely when it won’t.”

He nodded thoughtfully at this. It made sense. “And where are you right now?”

There was that look again, the one of heartfelt desire almost hidden by heavy lust. “Think about it. How busy have I been this week?”

“And you fell asleep in your clothes.”

“Yeah, I remember sitting on the chaise in the dressing room, but that’s it.”

“Yeah, because you were snoring in five minutes.”

“Which means…” A small smile tugged on her lips. 

His face felt like it was splitting. He was pretty sure his smile reached his ears. “Now’s a good time.” He shifted his hands back to her hips, pressing one more quick kiss to her stomach before trailing his lips down, past her thatch of red hair, down to her lower lips. When he kissed her softly, tongue flickering briefly to capture a taste of the wet cream that coated her already, she shuddered under his hands. “Better make it good,” he murmured.

He was pretty sure he’d heard someone once say a woman was likelier to conceive if she was sexually satisfied. Kristoff wasn’t sure if it was true, but he decided that between the storm that still raged outside and Anna’s own given advice, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Kristoff had come to live for the sound of his wife’s voice crying out her pleasure. The where didn’t matter so much—bathtubs, hall closets, and wide open meadows halfway up the mountain were all fair game—so much as the result. They had experimented before marrying, it was true. Three years was a long time to be in love and just hold hands, and they had both realized they had needs the other could fill. But now, nobody could say a word if they heard their often noisy coupling. Anna had become increasingly vocal, and she was loud now as she cried out his name into their bedroom, cutting clearly through a loud clap of thunder, seeming to pay no attention to the flash of lightning as he began to make love to her with his mouth, the fingers of one hand joining the efforts while the other went back to her breast.

It wasn’t long before her legs were thrown over his shoulders, toes digging into the muscles of his lower back and fingers massaging his scalp. They were sensitive areas for him, where the physical stress of his work tended to reside, and Anna knew her actions would push him a little closer. She also knew it would make him moan, and that the sound would vibrate against her over sensitive flesh and make it flutter under his lips. She knew very well that the sound would push her over the edge, knew he would continue to moan against her as she came, lapping desperately to drink in everything she gave him. The tug against his hair was different this time, and he crawled up over her against the soft mattress, taking in her beaming face and bright eyes as a flash of lightning illuminated her in an almost ethereal way.

Carefully, he shifted his hips against her, watching her eyes roll back in her skull as he slid inside her heat. Even after several months, Kristoff was still careful, at least at the start, not to hurt her. She was so much smaller than him, and he knew he was proportionately built and therefore larger than was average, and she was always  _ so _ tight around him. When he was buried to the hilt, hips pressed against hers as tightly as was possible, he paused for a moment to kiss her. He knew she would taste herself on his lips and tongue, and she whined into his mouth at the sensation. Pulling back his hips, he began a slow rhythm, one that now felt well learned and didn’t stutter quite so often. Her arms went around his shoulders, legs wrapped around his ass as he thrusted against her.

Whining softly, she lifted her hips to chase him when he pulled out, hovering so that only the tip of him was still inside, her lithe legs pulling her up and taking him back in almost at once. It made them both cry out, and he moved slowly while she rocked herself up against him.

“Kristoff.” Her voice was a whine as her lips wrenched free of his. She pulled him back slightly by his hair, the tugging sensation giving him goosebumps. “Harder?”

He couldn’t help the grin any more than the teasing words that tumbled from his lips. “Is that a question of ability, or a request for action?”

Her bright blue eyes darkened to indigo as she glared at him. “Harder, Kristoff.” She hoisted her legs higher against his hips, a determined expression coming over her face. “I want you to fuck me.”

It was almost mean, the way she could take control of him so quickly with just a few well placed words. She knew it, too. Knew he would quickly lose control and give in to her desires. While the princess turned queen was demure during the day, interacting with her subjects and advisors in the regal way she always had, he knew she was much more of a deviant when it was just them, that she knew how to use words that would turn a sailor's head. 

Rearing back on his knees, Kristoff pulled his wife’s legs up so they were flat against his chest. He watched as one of her hands found her own breast, lip back between her teeth as she tugged on her own nipple. The sight made his head spin, and he reared back, thrusting back into her so hard she actually scooted a little up the bed. Sharp little cries slipped from Anna’s open lips as he slammed her again and again, the sounds of skin slapping skin loud enough to drown out the weather, which she seemed to have completely forgotten about. He could feel her around him, knew she was already close again, and he reached down, pressing a palm flat against her pelvis, adding to the delicious pressure he already felt. Screeching, she writhed against the pillows, her sweet voice shouting obscenities into the night air, making him laugh with exhilaration.

When she came down, she pulled her legs away from him, a wicked grin crossing her face. He slipped from her body, still rigid with desire for her, and watched as she resituated herself, rolling onto her stomach before rising to her hands and knees. Glancing over her shoulder, she smirked at him. “Come on, Kristoff. You can do better than that.”

“Jesus,” he groaned, running one hand over her ass while the other loosely grabbed his cock. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“But it’s so much fun.”

He was  _ dead. _

This time, he wasn’t gentle on his entry.  _ Nothing _ about the way he took her was gentle, or even very loving. He pounded against her in sharp, rapid thrusts, groaning as he felt and heard the sound of his balls slapping against her. Thunder and lightning filled the room as her back arched, head falling forward between her arms, the sheen of sweat over her body bright in the flash of light. The hair that had come loose from her braid was sticking to her neck and he reached down, hurriedly untying the rest so that it fell around her shoulders. Then he carefully gathered her long tresses in his hand, guiding more than pulling her head back. Little mewls were slipping from her lips, the kind that told him she liked it, wanted more.

“Just take me, honey,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain. “Do whatever you want, just have me.” When he gave a small, experimental tug, she cried out, her ass pressing harder against him. “Use me.”

He kept her tresses in his grasp as he leaned over her back, keeping himself elevated with one hand on the bed at her side. “Only if you do something for me.”

“Anything.” Her voice was as desperate as the messy kiss she pressed against his lips.

“Come for me one more time.”

He stayed that way, pressed against her as he rutted his hips roughly against her ass, tugging lightly on her hair occasionally to keep her head back. He watched as one of her hands made its way between her legs, finding the place where they were joined. Her flattered fingers rubbed herself while managing to brush against his cock.

Eventually, she was slipping, his thrusts so powerful that she was sliding down until her hips were barely raised, until her torso was flat. He kept at it, showing her no mercy, because she wouldn’t want that, and living for the way she shouted into the pillow before turning her head, gazing back over her shoulder with glazed eyes. He shifted back to his knees, hoisting up her hips as her legs draped over his calves, the better to hammer into her as hard and as deeply as he was capable of. He could feel himself slipping, felt the trembling in his thighs and the lack of control he had over how he fucked himself against her, and mercifully, his name left her lips again in a desperate sound somewhere between a sob and a moan. Her thighs tightened against him as her body clenched around his, her eyes almost black as she watched him around her body.

It ended with his fingers digging into the soft globes of her ass while he buried himself deep in her heat. He released into her, shouting her name as he shook behind her, feeling his own heat mixing in with hers, spilling deep inside. He wasn’t sure he could remember a time it lasted so long. He felt there was more of him than could ever hope to stay inside her caverns, and he could actually feel his seed, mixed with her own excess of arousal, spill onto their connected thighs. He collapsed, managing to prop himself up a bit so she wasn’t suffocated, against the pale expanse of her back. Unable to stop himself, he pressed languid kisses against her shoulders, the back of her neck, her temple, finally her lips.

They were catching their breath, immobile with their bodies still connected. Speech shouldn’t have been possible. But Anna’s voice, a little sheepish, whispered against the sound of quiet rain against the window, “I actually really like how you looked in the lightning.” 

The days that followed were busy, just as the days before had been, then there was a trip up the mountain, and no more time for making love to his wife, and the memory of her body illuminated in the flashes of light stayed burned in his mind. 

He was glad, in the end, to recall it so vividly. Some weeks later, while he was sighing in frustration down at a pile of paperwork, she flounced into their shared study after a meeting, plopping herself in his lap.

“Hi.”

Dropping the pen to the pile, he wrapped his arms around her waist. Nothing was more important than moments like these, stolen in the rare quiet when it was just them. “Hey.”

“You were gone when I woke up this morning.” She sounded accusatory.

“You aren’t the only one who gets roped into meetings before the sun’s properly up, you know.” He rolled his eyes. “Why anybody would want to discuss road conditions before breakfast, I’ll never know.”

“Well, I was disappointed, because I had something I wanted to tell you last night…” Trailing off, her fingers toyed with the edge of his vest.

“But you fell asleep.” Kristoff kissed the tip of her nose. “You need to take it easy. You’re falling asleep almost as soon as dinner is over these days.”

“That’s the point,” she said, and she was beaming. He was taken aback for a moment, not sure he’d ever seen Anna look this happy, this  _ radiant. _ “Working isn’t what’s making me so tired.” There was a sparkle in her eyes, and he felt his heart trying to leap out of his chest. She giggled. “It was that damned thunderstorm.”

“It hasn't stormed since…” He trailed off, his head spinning. Was she saying…

“Not since the night you tried to put a baby in me.” She patted his broad chest, her smile somehow managing to widen. “You did a pretty good job, by the way. The midwife says I’m due in March.”

He was on his feet, swinging her up and around as she laughed delightedly, kissing her, saying, “I  _ told _ you thunderstorms weren’t so bad.”

\----------

Of course, the child had to arrive in a thunderstorm.

According to the midwife, the baby was due any day. Past due, even, though such things were always hard to say. Finding comfort at night had become an elusive pastime of hers, and he found himself fetching her pillows, blankets, and oddly shaped cushions from furniture around their rooms. He would bring her the sun and moon if she required them, so the earthly goods she needed were easy enough, and he never complained.

He certainly had nothing to complain about, compared to Anna. Kristoff was unsurprised to find that, most of the time, his wife was one of those women who was a complete joy when growing a child. Once in a while, however, she would break down in their room, crying over sore feet, her aching back, and her heightened sense of smell.

“I mean, honestly, who needs that much cologne?” She had scowled only last evening, slumped back onto a chaise in front of the fire, her arms crossed over her enormous belly.

“One more reason you should just stay up here.”

“Mrs. Jensen agrees with me. She says it’s only the noblewomen who ‘get their rest.’” She winced as she shifted. “And my back feels terrible.” A grimace crossed her lovely face. He scooped her protesting form into his arms. “I'm too big,” she grumbled.

“Not.” He kissed the tip of her nose. She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with his lips. She was blushing when he pulled away. “Soon, baby. You're doing an amazing job.”

They somehow managed to get some sleep, with Anna shifting constantly in discomfort and Kristoff waking with her every time, even when she protested and told him to sleep. He woke to a dim, grey light, with the bed next to him empty and cold. Sitting up, he wondered vaguely how he had slept through her rising, other than out of sheer exhaustion. He looked around frantically for a moment before finding her, pacing around the room and looking upset.

“Anna?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, leaping to his feet, suddenly wide awake and crossing to her in a few long strides. “Honey?” He felt the panic creeping up his spine. “Is it time?”

“Oh, I don't know.” She huffed, and he now saw that she was annoyed more than anything else. “I just couldn't sleep past five, and my stupid back hurts and I’ve had the stupid pains twice already, but nothing is happening!” Kristoff felt some of the tension leave his shoulders as he took her smaller hands in his, pulling her closer. “I cannot stand one more day of sitting around when there are a thousand things I need to be doing–”

“Everything's getting done, honey.” He kissed her fingertips tenderly. “Mattias and I haven't burned the place down yet. And you’re not doing nothing.” He raised his eyebrows. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve seen you sit still more than ten minutes for a week.”

“But you shouldn't  _ have _ to.” Her blue eyes were wide and sad as she gazed up at him. “It's not fair. You didn't sign up to marry the Queen.”

“But I did marry the Queen.” She huffed again, and he pulled her closer, pressed his lips to the top of her head. “And let me tell you something, wife.” He rubbed softly at the spot on her lower back that usually bothered her most, and she groaned softly. “I would do it a hundred times over again, as long as I get you. I married Anna.” He kissed her cheek next. “Anna just happens to be the Queen.”

“Even though everyone has to call you Your Highness?” But her lips curled as she said it.

“Yes.”

“And sir?”

“Yep.”

“And,” she said, with a smirk that said she'd been winding up, “ _ Prince _ Kristoff?”

“My least favorite, but I got it because I married you, so I'll tolerate it.” He gave her bottom a swift pat before stepping around her to begin getting ready for the day. She was laughing now, and his heart warmed at the sound. 

Five minutes later, he was heaving a sigh as he armed himself with a shaving razor and soap, musing how age seemed to be an accelerator for hair growth. One day off from shaving had left a distinctly thick scruff. When he had first met Anna, he only needed a shave once or twice a week. Now he was finding himself shaving every other day. He was just debating the worth of leaving it for another day, balancing exhaustion and the heckling he would certainly get from Mattias, when he heard from the adjoining room, “Oh, my God!” Scrambling from the shaving stand, he raced back into the bedroom, where he found Anna, a shocked expression on her face and a puddle at her feet. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, and he could see the fear in them as she reached for him. 

A knock on the door startled both of them. “Your Majesty,” Gerda called through the door, “I have the breakfast tray.”

Kristoff felt his feet carrying him toward the door. He was vaguely aware of his appearance—scruffy, a little frantic, bare chested and wearing only a pair of linen sleep pants, towel still tossed over his shoulder from his abandoned shaving—but he threw open the door, grabbing the tray. Gerda looked alarmed when she saw his face.

“Is everything alright, Your—”

It was strange, to feel so panicked but to still feel as if he knew exactly what to do, which made no sense whatsoever. “Anna’s water broke,” he said, taking a step back into the room. “I need you to get Mrs. Jensen immediately. And wake Elsa.”

Then Gerda was giving a quick bow before heading up the hall, shouting at the top of her lungs for Kai, and Kristoff was ducking back into their room. He quickly abandoned the tray for his wife. Anna hadn’t moved from her spot, still standing in shock.

“I was just talking to the baby, saying it’s time to come out,” she said, still wide eyed. Then she focused on the puddle. “Oh, my God, this is embarrassing.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes. “You can be so precious sometimes for someone who can be so unladylike.” He took her hand again, pulling her toward her dressing room. “Come on, precious.”

“Shut up.” Anna pouted at him. “You like that I’m not that ladylike.”

“I do. It's what makes it so funny when you actually are.”

They were crossing over the threshold into the dressing room when she stopped dead in her tracks, grasping his fingers tightly. She flinched, rubbing her belly softly with her free hand and taking what seemed to be a forced, but clearing breath. Kristoff felt the fear again, that feeling of not knowing what his wife was going through, if what she felt was normal, if he should be doing something. He held her hand, trying to keep his face in neutral. Anna kept looking at him, managing a small smile at his encouraging nod.

What seemed to last forever was really only a matter of seconds. Then Anna was relaxing her grip, glancing down at herself. “Help me change?”

While Anna stripped down, the task quickly accomplished with only a thin nightgown to remove, Kristoff found a clean one, this one sturdier and plain. He helped guide it down her arms and over her body. “What else?”

“Can you…” She looked down, blushing, then up through her eyelashes. “Would you braid my hair?”

“Let’s get you in bed,” he said, smiling. “Then yes, I will braid your hair.”

He had just finished a strong, single braid down her back and was still sitting behind her, hands softly rubbing at her neck and shoulders as she breathed through more pain, when there was another knock on the door.

“Mrs. Jensen has arrived, Your Majesty.”

Anna was still focused on her breathing and trying to be comfortable, so Kristoff answered for her. “Come in.”

Mrs. Jensen was, by all accounts, the best midwife in Arendelle. She had delivered many of the kingdom’s children successfully in her twenty years as a midwife, and most of them lived to grow healthy and strong. She was the kind of a woman who was loved and respected not only for the service she provided, but her means. Mrs. Jensen was jovial, always ready with a laugh, always ready with a story of one of her husbands. Mrs. Jensen herself had two children from two past husbands, the second of whom had been a wealthy only son of some merchant. Both husbands had left Mrs. Jensen a widow, and she had resolved that she had no need to remarry, nor need for another child, and so became that rare creature–the jolly widow, no need to work, but who lived below her means and enjoyed every moment life gave her.

But none of that was what made Mrs. Jensen unusual. Sonja Jensen was only thirty six years old. She had the reputation of a woman twice her age, but she came from a family of midwives. She had learned everything from her mother that she needed to know by the time she was fourteen. Anna had been one of the last children delivered by Mrs. Jensen's mother before the woman had a stroke that left her unable to do her job, leaving her teenage daughter without many options.

Mrs. Jensen bobbed in a quick curtsey, a smile tugging at her lips. “You look very comfortable, Your Majesty. His Royal Highness must be quite the pillow.” She set down a large bag she was carrying on a table. “Now, Majesty, what have I missed?”

Kristoff felt Anna relaxing at Mrs. Jensen’s easy manner. “My water broke a while ago, and I've had two contractions. I was just having the second one when you got here.”

“And how long since your water broke?”

Anna frowned. “I'm not sure.”

“About twenty minutes,” Kristoff said, glancing back at the clock. “Give or take.”

“Very good, Prince Kristoff.” The midwife grinned as she crossed to stand at the foot of the bed. “Most men would have run for the hills by now.”

“Not this man.” Anna squeezed his hand. “You'll stay until Elsa gets here, won't you?”

“Absolutely.”

Mrs. Jensen stood with her head cocked off to the side, a small smile on her face as she shook her head. “Oh, Prince Kristoff, you're a good man. Such a kind and loving husband. Whatever happened to that grumpy boy I used to buy ice from?” she teased.

“You  _ know  _ I hate that, Sonja.” Anna giggled in his arms.

“So sorry, Prince Kristoff, but that's what I have to call you now.” Then, with a glint in her eye, she looked back to her Queen. “Isn’t that right, Anna?” Anna was still laughing, her fingers relaxing against his thighs, where she had been holding his pants in a vice grip. “Now, Prince Kristoff, I’m sure you’ll want to get yourself dressed before a gaggle of ladies show up, only to be scandalized by  _ that _ ,” she suggested, gesturing at his bare feet and torso. An eyebrow raised over a sparkling eye, her smile now a smirk. “I’ll get her comfortable with these lovely pillows you have, don’t you worry.”

“You’re just lucky you always paid me better than most people.” Carefully, Kristoff extracted himself from a still grinning Anna, partly annoyed by Sonja Jensen’s incessant teasing, but inherently grateful for it at the same time. Part of what made her so successful was her ability to lighten any mood, even the gloomier ones that had settled on Kristoff in his younger years. She had been able to coax a smile from him almost every time, seeming happy to buy ice from him rather than the older, more experienced men, and just as happy to overpay with a dismissive wave of her hand.

And as soon as he was out from behind his wife, hands still gently supporting her shoulders, Mrs. Jensen was there, stuffing and fluffing a mountain of pillows. “There now, dear, get yourself comfortable.” The woman seemed to sense Kristoff’s lack of any desire to let go of his wife. She gave him a sympathetic half smile and a jerk of her head, and he met her at the foot of the bed. While Anna was busily moving things around to her exact liking, Mrs. Jensen leaned in and whispered softly, “She’ll be fine, Kristoff, I promise. Women have done this since the dawn of time, and the Queen is strong. I haven’t seen a single thing to worry me for her entire pregnancy, and I doubt anything will show up now.” Then she reached up, patted him on the head like she had when he was fourteen, and said, “Now, get on with you. We have hours of waiting ahead of us, and I’m sure you have things to do.”

He couldn’t resist giving Anna one last kiss, whispering in her ear, “I love you,” just as there was another knock on the door.

“It’s me!” Elsa’s voice was a little muffled by the wood.

“Come in,” Anna called, before wrapping her fingers in his hair and pulling him in for one last kiss of her own. “I love you, too.”

The door opened and Elsa appeared, blinking at the scene before her for a moment, before rolling her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Kristoff, Gerda’s not a minute behind me.”

“Gerda’s seen worse,” Anna insisted, eyes sparkling as he straightened, “believe me.”

“You can take the man off of the mountain,” Mrs. Jensen declared, hustling down toward Kristoff, who tried to dance quickly out of her way, “but you can’t take the mountain out of the man. Shoo!” She lightly shoved him back toward his dressing room. “I’m sure you have people to talk to,” she said, grinning. “You are the Prince Consort, after all. I’m sure some people would be very interested to know the heir is to be born very soon.” Then she had him completely inside and shut the door after him.

He sighed heavily, glancing around the room. He saw the abandoned bowl, razor, and soap, and shook his head. Definitely no time for that.

The day that followed was a blur. It turned out, there were a fair few people who needed to be alerted to the Queen’s delivery. He found Mattias first, only half surprised when the older man ribbed him for the scruff on his face.

“If you’re going to be a father now,” Mattias had joked, “you’d better get started on the beard, sir.”

Updates came periodically from upstairs via Elsa. Things were progressing slowly, which Elsa insisted was to be expected from a first delivery. She would give him a quick pat on the arm when she insisted nothing was needed, that he should continue in his duties.

Kristoff had been surprised to find himself rarely resentful of the titles and expectations that had come from marrying the Queen. He was with Anna more often than not, easily settling into a role where he walked and stood two steps behind her. It wasn’t so much submission as understanding that, in order to keep Anna, he had to shift perspectives and his own expectations. 

It still rarely involved giving orders, or having to do nearly half of what she did. So this day, he found himself wishing that rare wish that things could be simpler, just for a day. In Anna’s absence, it was his job to entertain the council members who had assembled, to host dinner for them, to ensure they were made comfortable after. And really, it hadn’t been so bad. They were kind and jovial, teasing him, like Mattias, about the rapidly thickening scruff. When he finally had time to glance in the mirror, he was shocked to find how quickly it had grown. It was long enough to see the highlights of darker and lighter shades of blonde, and he rubbed at it thoughtfully.

Rain had started to fall when he finally made it back to his dressing room. Immediately, he crossed to the door, pressing his ear against it. He could hear soft voices on the other side, but could not discern what they were saying. Then he felt his heart break when Anna’s voice rang clear, a sharp shout of pain followed by a long silence. Then there was the sound of her voice again, this time saying, “Oh,  _ God, _ how much longer?”

“They’re closer, ma’am.” Mrs. Jensen’s voice was more businesslike, but still light. “It’s been about twelve hours. This is your first child, so it’s not at all unusual for it to take a little longer. You’re nearly there.”

Rain pattered against the windows, making it harder to hear, and Kristoff resignedly changed into something more comfortable. He settled into a chair he never used, but was now grateful for, trying to listen through the wall as best he could and wishing the wall would simply disappear.

He noticed the rain picking up just in time to be on his feet, headed for the window, when a terrible  _ boom _ rattled in a way that felt like the stones of the castle themselves were vibrating, followed by a screech from Anna, this one not from pain but from fear. He almost threw open the door then, pausing with his hand on the handle.

“Oh, no no no no,  _ no. _ ” Anna sounded terrified. “Oh, I  _ hate _ thunderstorms, Elsa.” She was starting to panic a bit. He could hear the change in pitch of her voice. “I can’t have a baby during a thunderstorm!”

“What do you do to keep from panicking during a thunderstorm, ma’am?” Mrs. Jensen’s voice was calm, soothing. “Maybe it’s something we can do now.” It was quiet, then he heard Anna whimper his name, and he couldn’t wait anymore. Anna and Elsa looked surprised, but Mrs. Jensen just shook her head and smiled. “Ah, very good, Prince Kristoff.” Kristoff huffed, Mrs. Jensen smiled, and Anna actually choked out a tiny laugh. Elsa still looked a little shocked. “Now, Prince Kristoff, your job is to make sure your wife stays calm. Elsa, come help me.”

Mrs. Jensen had pulled Elsa close and was whispering to her, something he was sure neither of them needed to hear at that moment, so he crossed to Anna’s side with long, quick steps, kneeling beside the bed as he took her hand.

He had seen Anna when waking up in the morning, and had thought that was as wild as she could look. Then he had seen Anna waking up in the morning after a night filled with love making, and had thought  _ that _ was as wild as she could look.

But he’d been wrong.

Anna’s face was flushed, a thin sheen of sweat from sheer effort and exhaustion across her brow. Her strawberry hair was a disaster, half braided and half sticking out in all directions. She looked like she could fall asleep at a moment’s notice, were she able, but her eyes were bright and shining for him, fear, relief, and anticipation evident in her features. Taking a cloth from the bowl at the bedside and wringing it out, he pressed it to her brow, gently blowing a cool stream of air into her face.

“Oh, thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft, probably exhausted, as well. Another clap of thunder made her jump, but he pressed his lips softly to her forehead. She clutched his hand tighter.

“I’m scared.” Her voice was almost breathless, lowered to guarantee only he would hear her. “I’m so scared. What if—”

Kristoff interrupted her, pressing his lips tightly against hers, paying no mind to Elsa or Mrs. Jensen as he cradled her face in his hands. “I love you so much,” he rasped finally. “I promise you, the thunderstorm’s got nothing to do with this.” Then he paused, considered, grinned and whispered, “Well, maybe a little bit. Remember?”

A soft laugh met his ears. “Vividly.”

“So, this is going to be fine. I’m right here, you’re fine, the baby’s fine, and the rest is just noise.” Then she was sitting up straighter, grimacing as she clutched at his hand tightly. This one was different than those from this morning. It was significantly longer, the sound of thunder loud against the windowpane as he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. He kept whispering, like he always did, “You’re okay. We’re okay. I’m right here, and we’re fine.”

“You’re doing very well, Your Majesty.” Mrs. Jensen sounded pleased. “Do you feel ready to push?”

Anna nodded, and Mrs. Jensen disappeared beneath a sheet. Anna clutched more tightly to his hand. “Sit with me?”

Kristoff situated himself again behind Anna on the pillows, holding one of her heads in each of his while she pushed and he whispered to her through the rolls of thunder outside. Everything else disappeared but her, Mrs. Jensen’s voice a distant echo as he focused on his wife until he heard, “This is it, ma’am. The head is coming now, so give me a big, strong push when you are ready.”

For a moment, Kristoff actually thought Anna might break his fingers. The quiet settled again, only the sound of rain and a few thunderclaps interrupting it. Then Anna was gasping for air, and Mrs. Jensen was reminding her to breathe. 

“That’s it, ma’am, again when you can. I see the head. Looks a little on the large side, so it’ll have to be a good push.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” Anna muttered, seeming to ignore the flash of lightning that lit the room, followed by the thunder so loud that Elsa even jumped. "This is your fault, you know. If you weren't built like a brick wall…" She wore a look of intense concentration as she bore down, jaw tight, grip on Kristoff's fingers nearly bone crushing, but he couldn't bring himself to say a word on the issue.

“Good.” Mrs. Jensen’s voice was calm. “Now the shoulders, and we're home free, ma'am.”

Panting, Anna leaned heavily against Kristoff as the storm raged. “Kristoff,” she whimpered, “I’m so tired.”

“I know, baby.” He pressed a kiss against the side of her head. “You’re almost done. You’re doing such an amazing job, Anna, you can do this. Come on.” He squeezed softly at her fingers. “Break my fingers or dislocate them, I don’t care.”

The quiet settled again until Anna was gasping for air that was suddenly filled with the sound of a wailing newborn. Mrs. Jensen was handing the baby to Elsa to hold while she cut the cord, then taking it back for cleaning. Kristoff used one freed hand to push sweaty locks of hair from his wife’s face as she caught her breath against his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Elsa watching Mrs. Jensen with awe on her face.

“Well done, my Queen.” Mrs. Jensen was smiling brightly as she wrapped the newly cleaned infant in a warm, soft cloth. Very carefully, she placed the bundle in Anna’s arms. “Here is a little prince for your troubles.”

“It’s a boy?” Kristoff stared down in wonder at the tiny face, which was an angry, wrinkled red color.

“Oh, goodness, Your Royal Highness,” Mrs. Jensen said, making a show of rolling her eyes as she went back to the end of the bed to continue her work, “I thought you understood what that meant.”

"Funny, Sonja." But his eyes were glued on the little face that was gradually calming, almost looking shocked, now. 

“Kristoff, it’s a boy!” Anna’s voice was little more than a whisper. Her face was lit up like a Christmas tree, and he wondered what his own looked like. His cheeks already hurt from smiling.

“I’m not sure what royal procedures are entailed, but I believe there are some old men who need to be roused from their sleep.” Mrs. Jensen was gathering up sheets and towels that were shockingly bloody, but the woman's unconcerned face calmed him. 

“I’ll wake them.” Elsa rose from where she had been sitting, gazing at them dreamily.

Kristoff shifted reluctantly on the bed. “I should—”

“Be with your family,” Elsa said firmly. “You’ve done your royal duty for the day.” She smirked at him.

“She’s right.” Mrs. Jensen’s tone was joking, but her eyes were warm, like they had been the first day Kristoff had met her. “Most men can’t handle being anywhere near the birthing room. You were pawing at that door like a lost puppy.” She and the bundle walked toward the door. "I'll be five minutes." Then she paused, hand on the door as she glanced back again, the warmth spreading into her smile. "Well done, Kristoff."

And later, Anna suddenly glanced up from where their son suckled contentedly at her breast, Kristoff again in amazement at her capabilities. “It’s still storming.”

“It hasn’t stopped.” Kristoff craned his neck to see another flash of lightning. “Rough night out there.”

“Not in here.” Anna traced a finger across the now pink cheek of their infant son.

“I don’t know about that.” He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t think I could have done that.”

“And in a thunderstorm.” She sounded a little proud of herself, and he chuckled.

“I told you they weren't so terrible.”

It was quiet again for a bit before Anna asked, “So, how do you feel about keeping the beard?”


End file.
